


Loopholes

by SpinnerDolphin



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix it that doesn't fix it, Lucifer is ridiculous, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, a really dumb one, amusing and sad at the same time?, but he finds a loophole, that doesn't really work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinnerDolphin/pseuds/SpinnerDolphin
Summary: It wasn’t a perfect system, or even a very good one, but it was something, anyway. Season 4 spoilers.(Lucifer finds a way to contact Chloe. Kind of.)





	Loopholes

**Author's Note:**

> Look, between Endgame, Game of Thrones, and Lucifer I am a total wreck, you guys. So my brain went and did something ridiculous, but then, Lucifer is a ridiculous enough individual to try something like this, so I went with it.

It started on her doorstep.

Chloe was holding Trixie’s hand, and they both stopped in the threshold, gaping at the old, wizened man, skin kind of greenish and obviously dead. They were supposed to go to school and work respectively, Chloe thought faintly. It was her second day back at work. Why was this happening on her second day back at work? He grinned at them with rotten teeth and gave a little bow.

He was clearly a demon, and not the nice kind like Maze. Chloe felt her hackles rise, and behind that terror, which she squashed ruthlessly. She pulled Trixie a little behind her.

“Detective Chloe Decker and Spawn?” the man croaked.

He didn’t sound threatening, and the word “Spawn” made her heart leap, because only one person called Trixie that. Lucifer had left her on that balcony three weeks ago, and even this small thing was making her breath come a little short. “Yes?” Chloe asked cautiously.

“My Lord sends his well wishes and a message,” the dead man said. “Would you like to hear the message?”

“Lucifer?” gasped Trixie. Chloe hadn’t told her everything precisely, but she kind of suspected that Maze had. How much of the insanity she actually believed… Chloe was almost afraid to ask. 

“Yes,” Chloe rasped, to both Trixie and the dead man.

“The message is this: Loophole.” The man didn’t say it with anything even approaching the enthusiasm or glee that Lucifer would use. “Would you like to send a return message?”

“Yes!” Chloe blurted before she could think of anything else to say. “Send him my love and—and—”

“Hi Lucifer!” cried Trixie with delight.

“It is done,” said the demon, and the body dropped, lifeless, on her doorstep. Chloe stifled a scream, but Trixie only laughed. That was probably Maze’s fault, she thought sourly. Not that a dark sense of humor ever hurt anyone, but Trixie was eleven. 

Now there was a body on her doorstep. Great. So that was—something.

But her heart was thundering fast with adrenalin and revulsion and delight as she called the precinct to deal with the body. If this was—was really Lucifer—

The next demon approached her a day later at the precinct. It was that of an old woman in slippers, and she shuffled her way doggedly to Chloe’s desk despite the protests of nearly every policeman and woman in the bullpen.

Chloe stood and held up a hand, and the other officers took steps back.

“Message for Chloe Decker,” croaked the demon.

“That’s me,” Chloe said, and sort of regretted it. The dead people were most definitely creepy, but—but if there was even a chance—she didn’t have the heart to send them away.  

“My Lord says that he misses you terribly and that the alcohol in Hell is rubbish,” the old woman quavered, and Chloe knew then, she knew, that this was the real deal. No one but Lucifer could be so tender and then bitch about alcohol in the same breath. “Personally speaking, ma’am, I have no idea what he’s talking about. I quite like blood rum.” She sniffed. “He also said something about how the messages have to be short because demons can’t remember for shit, which he is not wrong about, and also he apologized about something, he was adamant about this, and I don’t know who you are, ma’am, but it ain’t proper for a king to apologize.” She scowled severely at Chloe, like this was her fault.

Chloe—was crying. She knew she was crying. She was crying in the middle if the police precinct, surrounded by her coworkers and a—a possessed dead woman and this was completely absurd. It was Lucifer all over. She huffed a weak laugh.

It was him. It was really him. He’d sent her the creepiest, worst messenger ever, but he’d still sent her a messenger.

“Aren’t you—not allowed to possess people?” she whispered.

“Special dispensation from the king, ma’am!” The demon drew itself up proudly. “My name is Barbas.” The old woman bowed again. “My domain includes healing, and I cannot lie. My Lord has placed a geas on me as well: I cannot harm you, or intentionally distort his or your words. I will also come if you call me.”

Chloe had a kind of a freaky hunch. “Are you—the same one as before?”

“Yes ma’am!” Barbas said.

Well. That was—something. Kind of a trip, her own personal messenger demon.

“Tell Lucifer I miss him, too,” Chloe told Barbas softly. “Cases are not as fun without him. And tell him—” her breath caught, but she forged on, “he doesn’t have to apologize. And that what he did was—incredibly selfless. And that I miss him, so, so much.”

“You already said you missed him,” Barbas said, sounding bored.

“Tell him twice,” Chloe told him firmly. “I—I really miss him.”

“Whatever,” said Barbas, and the body dropped dead in front of her desk.

The officers who were pretending not to eavesdrop gasped and exclaimed and called an ambulance. Ella raced from her office to examine the body.  Chloe had a feeling that she was going to have to have a discussion with Barbas about where it got the bodies, and where it left the bodies. It was morbid, but truth be told—also a little comical.

But she couldn’t stop the giddy feeling in her chest. Because it was contact. Lucifer was trying to stay in touch, despite the—who knew, was it distance? Some supernatural thing? Didn’t bear thinking about—that existed between them. It was ridiculous and impractical (could demons carry letters?) but it was better than nothing.

The next time she saw Barbas was on a case. Tony Vileto was shot dead before her eyes, and the culprit sped off in a motorboat of all things. When Barbas rose like a goddamn zombie, Chloe swallowed her scream, called it in, and then spent the next fifteen minutes ranting at the demon about its body choice, and then spent the last five minutes telling Lucifer all about the case, urgently, wishing he were there to help. She sent Barbas away by the time the other officers arrived. It was all kinds of surreal.

The next day, Chloe was in a hospital talking to a witness. On the way out, a flatlined body sat up and spoke to her. Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin.

“My Lord says that Barbas mangled that case almost beyond recognition,” Barbas told her huffily. “I’d like him to remember all those details on the fly, begging your pardon, ma’am.” He sniffed. “He also thinks that that Westly Novak did it.”

Lucifer was, nine times out of ten, completely and utterly wrong on his first sniff at a case, but this time he actually got it in one.  Chloe praised him to the moon and back, the next time she saw Barbas, who rolled its creepy old lady eyes. At least she’d managed to train the demon to go back to wherever it had found the body before dropping dead on her doorstep.  

It shuffled back to her desk at the precinct a day later with the next reply. It somehow managed to _look_ sarcastic.

“He says ‘I miss you. Oh, I miss you.’” It was said without inflection, but Chloe could hear it anyway.

“Tell him me, too,” Chloe replied, aching. “Tell him I miss him, too. And I love him. And—what’s happening in Hell?”

Barbas’ filmy eyes shone with glee.

On its next visit, it had long and surprisingly detailed stories about Hell’s politics. Apparently, it was easier for Barbas to remember Hell-related stories than it was for it to remember Earth-related stories. Barbas did not add any of Lucifer’s doubtless scathing commentary except when Lucifer had been adamant, and then it took great joy in telling her which archdemon had acted the most stupid that day. Lucifer didn’t tell her about torture, and she was kind of glad about it. She—didn’t think she was ready to hear it. She didn’t know if she ever could be.

“My Lord says that Asteroth is getting uppity again,” Barbas told her with glee. “He keeps trying to steal the throne,” Barbas cackled, like that was a joke. When Chloe didn’t get it, Barbas said, “Only an angel can rule Hell,” he explained, like she was very stupid, which was frankly insulting from someone who couldn’t tell a snow cone from a chandelier. She _knew_ that. “Asteroth is wasting his time, and all he will accomplish is to irritate my Lord.”

“Does he have a title? Asteroth, I mean,” Chloe asked.

“He is an archduke,” Barbas said.

“Tell Lucifer to demote him,” Chloe suggested. “Make it so he has to fight for his own title back, so he doesn’t have time for Lucifer’s.” 

Barbas showed up next time as a creepy, heartbreakingly dead child. The little girl told Chloe, “He says, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you, that’s brilliant,’” kind of sarcastically before wandering away. She wasn’t sure if her heart wanted to leap or sink, because those were Lucifer’s words, his lovely, heartfelt words, in a dead girl’s mouth.

The body turned out to have been killed by a serial rapist. Chloe caught the guy, and she told Barbas about it the next time she saw the demon. The time after that, it had the body of an old man, and it told her that Lucifer had spoken to it for ages, how he’d expounded on how brilliant she was, and how he missed her, and how he loved her, and that it was making Barbas nauseous.

Chloe told the demon to get over it.

It wasn’t a perfect system, or even a very good one, but it was something, anyway.

“I love you,” Lucifer told her over and over through Barbas, “I know this is selfish, but I miss you. I love you so much.”

It was selfish. She knew neither of them could move on without a clean break. But she was being selfish, too, because she wanted the contact, even though it wasn’t enough, even though Barbas was deeply creepy.

It was better than nothing, and she’d hold onto it as tight as she could.

 

\---

Barbas was the only logical choice, because Barbas could not lie.

If Lucifer had sent literally any other demon, besides a new one he might create, they might lie. They might twist Chloe’s words to try to sway him, one way or another, or manipulate him. Barbas was clever, but he didn’t lie, especially about hidden or secret things, and Chloe had to stay hidden from – everyone. Lucifer had placed that geas on him more as insurance than anything else, because where Chloe was involved, he wanted to be beyond certain that she would stay safe, that all the risk was on his end. Barbas had consented to it, anyway.

Barbas also had that nice self-defense background, which most demons lacked. And he could heal, too. Really, it was a no-brainer. It was still incredibly risky.

Time ran differently in Hell. It had already been a year for Lucifer, and he was going to lose what little sanity he had left, and also he was going to tear bloody Asteroth to pieces. The wretch kept trying for the throne, and by Dad he could have it if he wanted! Lucifer was all ready to crown him and zip on back up to Earth, problem solved! Except the moron literally had to climb to the top of the throne hand-over-hand, and once he got there he slid off every time he tried to sit on it. It was impossible for a Hell-forged demon to rule Down Here, and the other Fallen Angels were—well, actually insane.

If he let one of them take over, they were going to start the bloody apocalypse, and that wouldn’t help anyone. Everything was awful. He missed Chloe.

Barbas was his solution. The idiot was a poor substitute, but it was better than nothing.

In Hell, the demon took the form of a great, wretched and starved lion. He drooled and his fur was matted in blood.

“She says she sends her love, my Lord,” the lion growled. “And her hideous spawn says ‘Hi Lucifer,’ whatever that means.”

Lucifer felt something a lot like delight unfurl in his chest, like wings. It worked. This ridiculous plan had worked. It was far removed, but it was contact. So much better than nothing.

“Tell her I miss her terribly,” Lucifer ordered. “The alcohol in Hell is rubbish. And tell her I’m sorry, Barbas, tell her I’m so sorry. I could never apologize enough.” Barbas made a face at the soppiness, so Lucifer added, “Also tell her to keep her messages short and sweet because there is no way you’re going to be able to recite the bloody Illiad, is there, Barbas?”

The lion snorted. “I will absolutely forget a long message,” he agreed.

And Barbas was one of the smarter ones. Dad help him, but he missed Maze.

“Now go,” Lucifer told him, and the demon scrambled out, claws against the marble floor. It was silent after he was gone.

Lucifer sighed in the sulfur-heavy air.

I hate it here, Chloe, he thought miserably. This place is awful. I don’t want you to even think about it. I never want you to set foot here. But I wish you were with me.

He looked wistfully at the doors where Barbas had gone and thought about how that moron didn’t even know how lucky he was, getting a job like this. Barbas told the truth, always. And Barbas was loyal, and fairly nonviolent, as far as demons went. He was in no way gentle, but not inclined toward destruction. He wouldn’t hurt Chloe. It wasn’t in his nature, which was why Lucifer had chosen him for this job. Never mind the geas.

One claw out of line, though, and Lucifer would toss him in a loop and throw away the key. No room for mistakes, here.

Barbas knew that. It would be fine.

Lucifer sat back and he waited for Chloe’s reply.

 


End file.
